Invisible Boxes
by Migratory
Summary: Featuring The Watch as they attempt to save the city once again from the forces of disorder, or at least to take the credit for Gaspode's hard work in this direction. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One - In which Commander Vimes witnesses a disturbing incident and two watchmen trade their dignity for a hat full of coins._

Even after so much time, Vimes still had difficulty adjusting to working in daylight. Of course, people were bastards at any hour - but the city was decidedly different while the sun was up, and so were the crimes.  
Excess traffic, for instance, had never been a problem at night, and it was even less so after the unfortunate incident of Sergeant Detritus' surprise midnight speed trap. Pick- pocketing was rarely an after-dark issue, not when the option of knocking the victim out in an alley and pinching everything of value was waving so invitingly. Being a policeman in the day was almost a different job, although still one nobody thanked you for.

Another thing he'd never had to deal with was mimes. Across the Plaza Sergeant Colon, ably assisted by Corporal Nobbs, was currently having fun threatening a white-faced_(1)_ pair, having first witnessed their act. This seemed to have involved the larger man pretending various objects were incredibly heavy, while the smaller man ran to help him but found himself confined in a small room with invisible walls. The Watchmen had stepped in after the men had made a small collection - which the Corporal had thoughtfully confiscated as evidence – and explained that the Patrician Didn't Like Mimes.  
Colon and Nobbs marched the pair off to the palace without even giving them the chance to pack their props away. The large man was still carrying a small carboard box, staggering under the weight theatrically, much to the appreciation of the crowd. The more irritated Sergeant Colon became, the more the crowd laughed at him, and it was only when they were all through the gates that the crowd began to drift away, and Vimes continued on his beat.

He found himself oddly preoccupied by the matter, with the nagging feeling that something was wrong. Of course, one might consider that hanging mimes upside down in a scorpion pit was wrong, but that was the usual Ankh-Morpork type of wrongness. Everyone knew what happened to mimes, and if a couple of foreigners - or renegades from the fools guild – wanted to risk it, well, they couldn't say they hadn't been warned. No, it was something else that was bothering Vimes. A nagging detail that most definitely wasn't a Clue, but that he couldn't quite pinpoint.

It was funny, he reflected, but you didn't often see mimes with props. Aside from the ethics, there was the angle exclusive to Ankh-Morpork – carry nothing that hinders escape. And come to think of it, the actor had been very good, which was odd because his companion, on the whole, was only just above mediocre.

Unless he wasn't that good. Perhaps the reason it had looked like he was carrying a really heavy box – Vimes started running - was because he was carrying a really heavy box.

Vimes nearly made it to the palace before the explosion.

* * *

_(1) _This is a punne suggesting they were frightened when in fact they had just painted their faces white. Readers born within the last eighty years are excused from laughing. 


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two – In which Commander Vimes witness the aftermath of a regrettable incident, and explanations are sought by all involved._

The first watchman on the scene after Vimes was Lance-Constable Dorfl, joining the other golems in putting out the fire – which was smaller than Vimes had expected.

In fact, for the amount of noise it had made, he would have thought there'd be more destruction. A number of internal walls were now absent, and what had once been a fairly nice suite of rooms had fallen through the first floor into a corridor, but there was surprisingly little structural damage.

A breathless wheezing behind him indicated the presence of Sergeant Colon, who appeared to be alive and unsquashed.  
'Fred.'  
'Mr Vimes, Sir.' In broad terms, it was a salute.  
'Anyone hurt?'  
'Corporal Nobbs and myself sustained severe bruising, otherwise, no sir.'  
'The Patrician?'  
'Is waiting in his office, sir. He doesn't look happy.'  
'No, well, someone did just try to blow him up. How about the suspects?'  
Colon paused. 'They appear to have escaped in the confusion. Viz a viz, us being knocked down.'  
'They weren't killed?'  
'No sir. The box was, in fact, removed from them before it went off and left in what was the north corridor, with the intention that we would return for it after the suspects had been hung upside-'  
'-Down in the scorpion pit. Yes. You didn't notice the box was heavy?'  
'The suspect was instructed to place it on the floor himself, as myself and Corporal Nobbs wanted to keep our hands free should they attack us.'  
'Right. So we have no idea who they were?'  
'Must have been the alchemists, they're always blowing thing up.' He paused. 'Mind you, so are the wizards. I wouldn't trust them not to explode a palace. '  
'Fine. I'm going to see the Patrician, you wait for Corporal Littlebottom and when she gets here tell her to find out what on earth was in that box.' Vimes climbed over the wreckage of a marble bath and headed for the Patrician's office.  
'Yes sir.'

Vetinari was looking as unruffled as ever when Vimes reached the office.  
'Ah, Sir Samuel. I commend the speed of your response.'  
'I was in the vicinity, Sir.'  
'I see.' A slight pause. 'Would you care to explain what happened here?'  
'The palace was attacked, by two suspects armed with an explosive device.'  
'I was under the impression that The Watch guarded the palace from such occurrences.'  
'We try to sir. However, we admitted the suspects on your orders.'  
An eyebrow lifted. 'Really?'  
'Yes sir. They were disguised as mime artists. Two of my men were accompanying them to the scorpion pit. '  
'Ah. Would I be correct in assuming that these men might have had a Colonish and Nobbsesq air about them?'  
'The gentlemen in question were following your instructions sir.'  
'So I am at fault?'  
'The suspects are at fault.'  
'And do we know who they are?'  
'Not yet sir. An investigation will be carried out.'  
'Then I shall not hinder you further.'  
Vimes hesitated for a moment, then left without saying anything else. He didn't even bother to thump the wall on his way out.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three – In which we encounter certain villains while the men of the watch attempt to do the same._

They'd rehearsed this part several times, Maxim reflected, and every time he'd been able to take his trousers off without falling over. Still, it had gone pretty well.  
Getting out of the palace had been easy – the coppers were too stunned to think about chasing, and everyone else was too busy worrying about not dying. And barring the balance issue, the Quick Change had been a success – the white clothes were off in a minute, used to wipe off the makeup, then turned inside out to reveal an odd looking but passable brown outfit. After that it was a matter of walking briskly, but not suspiciously, round a corner and heading for the meeting point, where Art was waiting with a smirk.

---

Dear Mumme and Dad

Well it has been a busy week and no mistake about it! There has been a to-do at the palace, some mimes tried to blow it up. They damaged the patricians best bath, Commander Vimes said its a pity he wasnt in it but thats just His Way he is actually very upset about the whole business. We have no idea, who did it, we are going to interview the fools and the alchemists and possibly the wizards, but Mr Vimes says he'll be d-mned if he sets foot in their hall until its a last resort.

Captain Carrot paused for a moment and looked up from his desk.  
'Sergeant?'  
Sergeant Colon stopped shuffling his cards. 'Yes Captain?'  
'Why doesn't Commander Vimes want to interview the wizards?'  
'Ah, well, he's embarrassed, ain't he.'  
'Why?'  
'It's was that business with the Assistant Librarian. Rinsing or something, his name was. Scrawny chap.'  
'Rincewind? The wizard who went up in The Kite with me?'  
'That's the one. Anyway, he's a bit of a coward, you see-'  
'A bit?'  
'If in doubt he legs it.'  
'Yes...'  
'And Mr Vimes has views on people who are running...'  
'Good grief. How long were they at it?'  
'Best part of a day. In the end we had to lie in wait for them at the Brass Bridge and get Detritus to step out in front of them. That stopped them alright. Mr Vimes didn't come round till the evening, and he's never mentioned it since.'  
Carrot considered this seriously, and decided that putting it in his letter might be considered a little Disrespectful.

Anyway, I must be going I have plenty of work to, keep me busy – as I said to my friend Corporal Nobbs (Nobby), Tyme wont stop for the watch, which is a punne. I thought I might paint it on some mugs to make for a Jolly Atmosfere in the Watch House but I will have to ask Commander Vimes first as his wife payed for the mugs.

Your son (adopted)

Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson

The Commander came in just as Carrot was sealing the envelope. 'Right, any news from Corporal Littlebottom?'  
'No sir, she's still in the loo,' volunteered Sergeant Colon.  
'It's not a privy any more,' said Littlebottom, as she entered the room carrying a pan of gunk. 'It's my office.'  
'Quite right Corporal,' said Vimes. 'What have you found out?'  
'Well, for a start it wasn't an exploded dragon -'  
'Mrs Vimes'll be pleased them,' murmered Colon.  
'- and I'm pretty sure it wasn't Orctiron –'  
'What's Octiron?' interrupted Vimes.  
'A metal used by the wizards, sir. It emits magical radiation in a variety of forms.'  
'So the wizards weren't involved?'  
'Well, the explosion doesn't seem to have any magical origins, sir. The remains of the explosives are mostly CaveSalt.'  
'And that's found in caves, I suppose.'  
'Actually sir, these days we get most of it from, er, alternative sources.'  
'Which are?'  
She looked at her feet. 'Waste, sir.'  
'Waste.'  
'You know. Excrement.'  
'You're not serious?'  
'Afraid so.'  
'And it's explosive?'  
'In the right circumstances, yes. It has to be mixed with some other chemicals, but nothing that's hard to get hold of.'  
'So do we think the alchemists had something to do with this?'  
'It's hard to say. Any alchemist would be able to make that sort of explosion, but then CaveSalt's been written about for hundreds of years, so I'm sure anyone else who wanted to could find out how to do it.'  
'And they'd be able to find some CaveSalt?'  
'The alchemist's guild might sell it to them. If not, well, it's not hard to extract. They'd just have to find a large source of waste.'  
'In that case, I'd like you to go to the alchemists guild with Captain Carrot and see what you can find out. In the meantime, Sergeant Colon and Corporal Nobbs can pay Harry King's yard a visit and see if he's been selling to any new customers.'


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four – In which an encounter with a local service provider goes badly for the Watch, and the crooks begin to wonder how far their luck will hold._

'Sarge?'  
'Yes Nobby?' said Colon.  
'How come we're always the ones who end up poking around in the dirt?'  
'That, Corporal, is because we're proper watchmen. Used to field work, not paper. Now Carrot, he's a good lad and he's got a knack for talking to people, but could you see him spending days in a sewer searching for one tiny clue that'd solve a murder?'  
Nobby considered this. 'No.'  
'Exactly.'  
'Sarge?'  
'Yeah?'  
'Are we going to have to dig through this lot?'

'This lot' was the contents of Harry King's Yard, full of pretty much everything people didn't want, but mostly manure.

'Gentlemen, what a pleasure!' Harry was crossing the Yard towards them. 'Please, come into my office.' He waved a hand towards his shed.

The shed was filled with things Colon didn't understand, but he was immediately possessed with a burning desire for Harry's coffee maker. You put an empty cup in, waited for about a minute, and then a full cup of coffee popped out. Colon had drunk four cups just so he could see them refilled before Nobby kicked his ankle and he remembered why he was there.  
'Ah, Mr King, are you aware that there was an incident at the Palace yesterday?'  
'The explosion? Yes, I'd heard.'  
'Well, we have reason to believe that the chemical used for the explosion can be, er, found in abundance in your yard, and we were wondering if you'd had any new customers lately?'  
'Gentlemen, you have to understand that I can't just give out names of my customers to anyone who asks for them. There are reputations at stake.'  
'How come?'  
'Well, hypothetically, if there were certain people who were mixing dried dung in with some kind of meat-based food products in bread, they wouldn't want anybody knowing about it, so I tend to keep my customer list confidential.'  
Colon leaned forwards. 'Mr King, we are _The Watch_. It's your duty to help us, and if you refuse we may have to poke around for ourselves. There are some very funny rumours about exactly what's in some of your steaming piles.'

Harry put his cup down, and said pleasantly 'I wouldn't advise it - those steaming piles seem to be a bit... sticky. When the cats dig around in them, they somehow get sucked right into the middle and die.'

---

Maxim was still on his first beer, and Art had yet to start eating, when they were joined by their patron, who didn't bother sitting down.  
'Excellent work Gentlemen,' he said. 'I can see that you're well on your way to becoming fine agents, and I expect to use you again in the future.' He placed a small bag on the table and left.  
Max opened it a tiny amount. 'Looks like it's all there.'  
'What do think he's got lined up for us next time?' said Art, poking his sandwich suspiciously.  
'Who knows. We can always say no if we want.'  
'I guess.' He surprised himself by giving the rest of the sandwich to the small dog sitting under a chair. 'Wouldn't want to mess with him though.'  
'No. And I don't really fancy going near the alchemists for a while, either.'  
'They wouldn't recognise us, would they?'  
Max shrugged.  
'D'you think we should leave town for a while?'  
'Not yet. We'll wait and see what the next job is.'

They wandered back in a gloomy mood, despite the money.  
'Art?' said Max.  
'Yeah?'  
'What's that smell?' They both looked round.  
'It's that dog. I fed him, so he's following me home. Probably thinks I'm wonderful.' The dog stared at them as they went into the building. 'If he's still there in the morning I reckon we should give him some of our breakfast.'  
'If you do that, we'll never get rid of him, and you know what the rules are about pets.'  
'Yeah, well, I probably wouldn't get caught.'

As they shut the door on him, the dog looked up at the doorplate.  
'Bloody hell,' he said. 'I'd better tell someone about this.'


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five – In which an unlikely collaboration between man and beast leads to unexpected dividends._

A couple of hours later Gaspode was leading Carrot down the maze of alleys that marked the quickest way to the Guild.  
'I'm not sure about this,' said Carrot. 'I don't have the knack for undercover work.'  
'Well no,' said Gaspode. 'You're still in your armour, for one thing. On the other foot, I can't imagine Mr Vimes trusting Nobby with all the petty cash. And you understand me and can therefore hear my prudent advice.'  
'And that's... an advantage?'  
'I've got my nose to the ground, pal. You just concentrate on acting like you need to spend that money.'

Carrot rapped on the door, and was admitted by a man with a tweed suit but no shoes. 'Welcome to the Guild of Gamblers,' the man said. 'My name is Thomas Lock, and I control the tables.'  
Carrot nodded, doing his best to look shifty. 'Er... I'm Cap- Carrot, and I've got some money, and I'd like to win some more,' he said.  
'Right you are, Captain.' Carrot flinched. 'That is, Mr Carrot. Don't worry, we are the father of discretion here.'  
'Right up until you take people's clothes,' said a low voice.  
The man looked puzzled for a moment, then continued. 'We have roulette in this direction, cards through the arch, and a large lounge to discuss any other matters relating to The Lady.'  
Gaspode waggled his head for a moment, catching scents. 'They're in the lounge.'  
'I think a game of roulette to start with, ' said Carrot loudly. As he followed the man he looked back at Gaspode and tilted his head towards the lounge.  
'Oh yes,' said Gaspode. 'Very subtle I don't think.' He called after Carrot, 'And don't lose all your money or they'll kick you out.'  
He looked around the lobby. No one seemed to be paying him much attention. There were two men, busy adding Carrot's details to a tally chart on a blackboard. Apparently there had been six men with blue eyes, but only two people over six foot. And one person with a leg missing. Gaspode crept towards the lounge, and found himself a spot where he could observe the two gamblers he'd seen earlier. The spot happened to be right by the fire, but that was just a coincidence.

Of course, when warm Gaspode's odour was a little more mobile, and it wasn't long before the nearest of the men turned around and saw him. 'Hey Max,' he said. 'It's that dog again. He must have found a way in.'  
Gaspode trotted up to him and whined pathetically. 'I'm undercover, ' he muttered to himself. 'I'm a hard bitten police dog and this is part of my tough job.' He sat down, leaning again the man's leg.  
'Hey, he's giving me a cuddle,' said the man, rubbing Gaspode's ears. Gaspodes licked the man's hand and then lay down on his foot and closed his eyes. 'He's falling asleep.'  
'You ought to wake him up then, and chuck him out. I told you before, we aren't allowed pets.'  
'No one'll see him in the shadows under the table, and he looks so tired. I'll just let him rest for a bit.'  
'Fancy a game of something?'  
'As long as I don't have to move.'  
'I'll see what I can find.' Max wandered off, and game back after a few minutes with a box. 'Dominoes suit you?' he said.  
'Sure.'

Gaspode heard the clinking of a money being piled up, and then the tapping of tiles. Apparently people didn't talk when playing dominoes. He was just beginning to doze of for real when he smelt soap, and raised his head in time to see Carrot enter the room, accompanied by a very smartly dressed man. 'Can I get you a drink, sir?' the man said.  
Carrot thought for a moment. 'Could I have a bottle of wine please? And I seem to have misplaced my dog – oh no, there he is.'  
He headed over to Gaspode's table. 'Thank you gentlemen, for looking after my friend Gaspode.'  
Max looked up sharply, then saw the attendant, and where Carrot was looking. 'Oh, the dog,' he said. 'Yes, he's been quite safe.'  
'Please, allow me to share a drink with you, in thanks.'  
Art said 'but-' and then saw Max nod towards the attendant. 'Oh, yes, thanks.'  
'Best call the game a draw then,' said Max, sweeping the tiles away quickly.  
'Hey,' said Art, 'that's not-' and then stopped again.  
Carrot beamed as the wine was brought over. 'I hope I'm not disturbing you gentlemen?'  
'Not at all,' said Max smoothly. 'I trust you've had a pleasant evening?'  
'I have made a small profit, yes,' said Carrot, pouring them each a glass. 'But I see you've also done well. Have you been at the tables?'  
'Oh no,' said Max. 'We live at the guild, so we don't tend to use the public tables.'  
'Run them sometimes,' added Art.  
'Ah, said Carrot, 'I misunderstood. You have been saving your wages then?'

There was a shocked silence, and then Art began to choke on his wine.  
Max put down his glass, and said slowly, 'we, Sir, are members of the Guild of Gamblers. We do not draw _wages_.'  
'Sorry, ' said Carrot. 'I just thought that you'd earned-'  
'Ain't earnings,' spluttered Art. 'They're winnin's.'  
'Winnings?' said Carrot.  
Max nodded. 'We're part of a small team that takes unorthodox bets.'  
Carrot groaned, and a voice from under the table muttered, 'like undercutting the assassins and living?'  
'Max continued. We got recruited by the original member, and he gives us our share of the winnings if we managed to... bring about unlikely occurrences.'  
'And you just won a bet.'  
'First one. It was a sort of trial.'  
'What was the task?'  
It- I'd better not say.'  
'But you succeeded.'  
Yes, but – hang on. Why are you so interested anyway?'  
Carrot tried to think quickly. 'I...'  
'He's a copper,' said Art. 'They're paid to stick their noses in.'  
'No, I,' stuttered Carrot.  
'Good grief,' said Gaspode. 'Just say you want to bet on them.'  
'It's just that I'm interested in placing a bet,' said Carrot gratefully. 'Only, you see, it's a bit embarrassing. I'm supposed to set a good example.'  
Suspicions were no match for his honest smile. 'Right,' said Max. 'Well, you'd have to have a word with our leader... what do you think, Art?'  
'If Gaspode likes him, I like him.'  
'Fine. Meet us here tomorrow at seven.'

'Some undercover policeman you are,' complained Gaspode as they walked back.  
'I did warn you. Besides, it worked.'  
'Only just. Still, you did a good job pretending to be rich.'  
Carrot opened the door to the Watchhouse. 'I didn't have to pretend.'  
'What?' said Gaspode. 'You really _did_ win lots of money?'  
Carrot emptied his pockets onto the table, and Gaspode froze. 'You mean we just walked across Ankh Morpork carrying enough gold to buy a small house?'  
'Yes.' Carrot bent down to look at Gaspode. 'Are you alright? You're not moving.'  
'I think I've just had a stroke. Please put the money out of sight. Now.'


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six – In which the faithful companion finds himself temporarily replaced, while the Watchmen begin to fret_

Sergeant Colon shook his head. 'It's not natural,' he said.  
'Sarge?' asked Nobby.  
'I mean, if you won a shedload of money you'd keep it, wouldn't you.'  
Nobby thought for a moment. 'Is that one of those trick questions where I say 'yeah' and you say 'aha, now we've got you' and take me off to Mr Vimes?'  
'No, it's one of those questions where the answer's so bleeding obvious you don't _have_ to say it. Except that Captain Carrot thinks otherwise. Just because he was on police work he says it police money.'  
'But he's _always_ on police work, ' said Nobby.  
'Exactly. And that is setting a dangerous president.'  
'A what?'  
Colon sighed. 'If he gives all his legitimate winnings to the Watch, people might expect us to.'  
'But we never win anything, Sarge.'  
'We might one day. And if I win a bucket of gold I won't be donating it to buy a secret imp in a hat.'

Commander Vimes was in his office with Captain Carrot, trying to understand this piece of equipment.  
'So there's an iconograph in it?'  
'Yes sir. A miniature one with an extra small imp in.'  
'And you get the imp to take pictures of the suspects?'  
'Yes. And at the same time it can memorise everything that's said.'  
'Good grief. How long will it take to learn to use it?'  
'Already done sir. You tell it when to start and stop remembering, and every time you tap the hat it paints an iconograph, up to a maximum of ten at a time.'  
'Ten?'  
'That's how many canvases'll fit in.'  
'I see... and you're going to take it out to meet the gamblers?'  
'I thought it might help us identify the mystery employer.'  
Vimes nodded, although privately he thought that if even Captain Carrot couldn't recognise the man, the rest of the Watch had no chance. Carrot, after all, knew everyone.

'So,' said Gaspode, as he and Carrot walked over to the Gambler's Guild, 'what's the plan? Wing it, same as yesterday?'  
'Not quite,' said Carrot. 'You can't come.'  
Gaspode stopped and drew a deep breath for a torrent of righteous indignation, but Carrot was already talking. 'I appreciate your help, but this time I'm recording the conversation.'  
'So?'  
'So, what if the imp can hear you? It'll report what you say back to the rest of the Watch, and they'll know you can talk.'  
Gaspode thought for a moment. 'I could keep quiet...'  
Carrot pointedly didn't answer.  
'Alright, point taken. But are you going to manage on your own?'  
'I expect I'll cope. I may even have time to think in the pauses of a conversation.'  
Gaspode snorted. 'I bet my thoughts are more interesting though. And I helped you when they got suspicious.' He sat down. 'I may as well wait here.'  
He watched Carrot walk away, and hated himself for it. He was even more irritated when he couldn't bring himself to leave his position, even to follow Mr Dibbler's sausage in a bun tray.

Carrot came back an hour later, his face serious.  
'Did you find anything out?'  
'Yes,' said Carrot slowly. 'A couple of interesting things.'  
'Did you recognise their boss?'  
Carrot paused. 'You know, I'm sure I did, but I can't work out who he is. I've seen him somewhere, though.'  
'And did they notice you recording them?'  
'The waiter did snigger a bit at the size of my hat, but no, I don't think they realised. I tapped it as surreptitiously as I could.'  
'In that case they def'nitely noticed. What's the next bet?'  
'For them to get inside the palace for two hours without getting caught.'  
'Sounds dodgy to me.'  
'And me, but I can't see what's going to happen.'  
'How they doin' it?'  
'Dressing up as statues an standing somewhere out of the way.'  
'That's ok I suppose, but I reckon they'd be better off dressing up as servants. No one sees an extra cleaner, but two new statues might get noticed, especially if they happen to run off suddenly.'  
'Hmmm. I think I'd better go and show these pictures to Commander Vimes. He might have a better idea of what's going on.'  
'Better than me?' said Gaspode. 'He'll say exactly the same.'  
'I think he might be marginally more cynical.'

--

Vimes had heard the recording, and was now staring at the photographs. Carrot was right, the man definitely looked familiar. Vimes would have guessed he was in his forties, or even late thirties, and he looked quite smart in his suit and tie, although Vimes kept expecting to see a hat, for some reason.  
Why did the man want to get a couple of gamblers into the palace? And why did the gamblers want to dress up as statues? Why had they let Carrot into the bet?  
What they hell was going on?  
He'd have to place men at the palace. There was going to be a crime, Vimes could smell it - and not just attempting miming. Someone was manipulating the gamblers, and there would be a reason somewhere.  
Vimes went to bed still trying to work out what was going on, and it took him far too long to get to sleep, but when he woke he knew two things.

He knew who the man in the suit was, and he knew why he hadn't recognised him.

He'd never before seen him without a duck on his head.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter Seven - In which patient detectoring yields sinister results, and we witness a regrettable act of violence._

'The Duck Man?' said Carrot.  
'Ignore the suit, just look at the face,' said Vimes.  
Carrot stared. 'You're right. But why would the duck man hire freelance gamblers?'  
'I think it's more likely someone hired the Duck Man to _pretend_ to hire the gamblers.'  
'Who'd do that?'  
'I think you'd better ask him.'

'I don't want to crow or anything,' said Gaspode as they headed for the bridge, 'but if you'd have taken me along instead of that stupid imp in a hat I could have told you straight away.'  
Carrot didn't say anything.  
'In fact, it might be easier if I'm the one who talks to him. They all trust me, whereas you're just a copper.'  
Carrot nodded reluctantly. 'I'll wait here then, shall I?'  
'Now you know what it feels like,' said Gaspode, as he headed off to see the beggars.

He found them sitting in their usual spot under the bridge.  
'You got the duck back then?'  
'Duck?'  
Gaspode had got into the duck argument once before, and that was enough. 'Never mind. But you've got the watch interested in you now.'  
The Duck Man shrugged. 'They won't worry about us. As wonderful a provider as the Ankh is, we do need money occasionally, and there are worse ways of getting it.'  
Foul Ole Ron spat. 'Buggrit.'  
'Exactly,' continued the Duck Man without a pause. 'Why are you so concerned anyway?'  
'I know that Captain Carrot. He seems daft enough, but he gets there, and he's got a knack of getting people to do as they're told.'  
'Probably because he's the king.'  
And though everyone knew it, this was the only place Gaspode had ever heard it mentioned. He scratched an ear. 'Maybe. Anyway, he's sniffing around so either we tell him what we know or he'll come down here himself. He goes anywhere he likes.'  
The Duck Man shrugged. 'There's not much to tell anyway. A man hired me to pretend to be a rich gambler, gave me ten dollars and a glass of wine.'  
'The Captain won't be impressed if that's all I bring him. He needs to find that man – could you at least give some kind of description?'  
'I don't need to. He was sat at the table with us.'

---

There was an hour to go before they went to the palace. Maxim had checked his costume and his makeup far too many times, and he was now at the pacing up and down stage. _It'll be fine_, he told himself. _We're bound to get away with it.  
_A few rooms down the hall, Art was busy rechecking his costume, his makeup and his crossbow.

---

Gaspode was keenly feeling the loss of dignity that accompanied being carried by Captain Carrot, especially since he hadn't been consulted. He'd just told his story and Carrot had picked him up and started running. There was some small consolation, though, in the face that he got to see first hand the look on Commander Vimes's face when a six-foot man in armour burst into his office.

---

Max kept pulling at the hood of his cloak to make sure it covered his face, but no one seemed to notice either of them as they wandered through the streets with their ladder. As Art had said, it'd be easier to get into the gardens first, then start creeping towards a convenient door, possibly by making use of the trenches whose presence in the landscape indicated the hand of Bloody Stupid Johnson in the design.

In getting over the wall they decided to opt for speed rather than stealth. No amount of excuses stand up against being spotted halfway up the ladder, so they threw off the cloaks, made sure they were on the ladder for as little time as possible, then lay on top of the wall and pulled the it over with them. On the other side they moved a little more carefully getting into the trench, which really did seem very deep, and carrying the ladder along with them.

---

As Vimes and Carrot ran off towards the palace it took all Gaspode's self-control to stop him shouting 'Oi, what about me?' after them. He settled for muttering obscenities as he wandered along, following the scent of soap and cigars.

---

If anyone had been paying attention in the garden, they would have seen two grey figures standing on either side of the library window that definitely hadn't been there last night. Fortunately for them, no one noticed them, although one of the apprentice gardeners did get shouted at for leaving a ladder on the lawn.

Inside the library the two figures looked well placed, fitting in perfectly with the solemn stillness of the room. Until they began talking, anyway.

'I think we should split up,' said Art quietly.  
'What?' murmured Max. 'Why not just stay here for the two hours? We're in the palace, aren't we?'  
'Yes, but if someone comes in we'll both get caught. If we split up we'll have twice as much chance of winning the bet.'  
'If one of us goes wandering around the palace he's bound to be seen, and then people'll be on the lookout for mysterious walking statues. I say we stay here.' Max used his firmest tone.  
Art looked indecisive for a minute, and then drew a crossbow Max hadn't realised he'd been carrying. 'Sorry, Max, but I need to go somewhere else in the palace. Without you.'  
Max suddenly felt very cold. 'You're going to kill someone, aren't you.'  
'Yes. But not you, if I can help it.'  
Max couldn't prevent the sarcasm reaching his tone. 'Well, thanks, that's-'  
'I'll need you to take the blame.'  
As Max tried to think of a reply, Art hit him.


	8. Chapter 7 plus 1

_Chapter Seven plus One - In which we learn something of the motives of an angry young man with a loaded crossbow, and can only hope that there will be a happy ending._

The Patrician was working in the throne room when Art burst in with a crossbow. He looked up from his desk at the foot of the throne, and raised an eyebrow.

'Stand up,' said Art.  
'In a moment.' The Patrician carried on with the paper he was writing, then conscientiously cleaned his pen. Finally he stood.  
Art jabbed the air with the crossbow. 'Do you know why I'm here?'  
'Presumably to threaten or kill me.'  
'I'm here because you've been oppressing my people.'  
'Your people?'  
'The still ones.' Art gestured to his costume. 'Those of us who practise a forbidden art. Mimes.'  
'I see...'

Art was angry now. 'The Scorpion Pit! Learn the words! Did you think it was a joke?'  
The Patrician said nothing.  
'Do you know how long it takes to put together an act? To relearn how to move, to examine everything you know about performing? Do you even have any idea how hard it is to stay still?'  
The Patrician held up a finger for silence, and got it. 'Yes,' he said. 'I know exactly how hard it is and how valuable a skill it can be, and like other dangerous skills I do not wish to put it in the hands of the population.'  
'What?'  
'You used your skills to make money, to entertain people, but as you so aptly demonstrated a few days ago, they can also be used to cause harm, and I have no intention of allowing this to be demonstrated in public. People with the ability to stand still can draw attention to themselves, as you choose to do, but equally they can seem to disappear.' The Patrician picked up the cane that was resting against the desk and began to lean on it. 'When a man walks into the palace dressed as a statue with the intention of murder I have to assume that he has grasped this concept effectively.'  
'What concept?'  
'That miming can be put to deadly use.'  
'But-'  
'Do you intend to pull that trigger? If so it will become apparent that I am correct.'  
'You'll still be dead though.'  
'Provided you manage to kill me.'  
Art looked at the cane, which the Patrician seemed to be leaning all his weight on. 'You're old. You couldn't dodge a crossbow bolt.'  
'Of course I couldn't.'  
'Then I'm going to fire now.'  
'I see.' The Patrician waited.  
Art took a deep breath-

-and someone grabbed the bow. Then punched him.

Vimes looked down at the mime. 'You know,' he said, 'yours isn't the only way to stand still. Try it at night in the rain.'  
He nodded at the Patrician, who gave a thin smile.  
'Excellent work, Commander.'  
'Thankyou, sir.'  
'I expect it would be unwise to enquire whether you considered letting him shoot me.'  
'If I thought you needed shooting I'd do it myself, sir.'

---

After he came round Max staggered into the corridor, and he was heading for the throne room with the general intention of warning someone when he heard voices. He immediately stood tall and still, and tried not to look as he saw figures approaching. First came Captain Carrot - carrying an unconscious Art over his shoulder – who neither paused nor looked at him. Then came Commander Vimes, who stopped just in front of Max and began fishing in a pocket, dragging out a book of matches.

For an agonising moment Max thought Vimes would attempt to strike the match on him, but the Commander leaned past him, struck it on the wall and lit his cigar with it. He then continued down the corridor after Carrot, but not before he'd thrown a dollar in the general direction of Max's feet.

---

And wandering towards Peach Pie street, satisfied that the watch would probably cope without him for the time being, was a small dog. If he was muttering, it definitely wasn't because he was congratulating himself on saving the day. It was because he was debating whether he felt well enough to beg at the door of the Guild of Butchers.

On the whole, he reflected, he did.


End file.
